Ghost by my side
by Andrastre
Summary: Calling all Draco fans. Someones crazy delusions exposed to the world. I think, at least, it has the merit of originality, but I may be wrong. All Draco fans please read.


Ghost by my side. Author: Andrastre.  
  
Rating: PG13 for lack of any better ideas.  
  
Disclaimer: The moonlight boy belongs to J.K.Rowling, although the way the girl sees him is due more to Cassie Claire and Echo and Fearthain and all the authors who made him come alive for her. The song is by Ladykillers, I don't know its name.  
  
A/N: This is a very strange one-off about Draco, no sequal or other chapters or anything. I promise not to perpetrate another offence like this, if you'll all just kindly ignore my obvious insanity. I'm not dangerous, honest.  
  
If you had been in a small flat in a small town in Spain on a february evening, you might have seen a small boy eating tea, and a teenage girl getting it and eating with him, sitting at the table with her black coat still on. It makes her feel secure, you see. Like being held.  
You might have seen her pack her brother off to the bath, and then wander disconsolately into the sitting room. You'd have seen her face as she stood at the window looking up at the full moon, and down at the lights of the city below, and heard the ache in her voice as she burst out singing.  
  
"Welcome to my house, we'll play for a while, can't you see there's a ghost by my side. I'm gonna dig myself a hole, and get my head inside. I'm gonna keep my eyes closed, feel my heart drifting by. Life can be so ordinary, I did try to make mine good. But I've made so many mistakes."  
  
If you've been watching this girl for a while, you'll know that the ghost by her side is that strange boy, moonlight and magic. The boy with silver skin and hair and eyes who she loves, who she copies. You'll have seen her talking to him in his pictures on her wall. You know that when she settles into bed every night, she digs herself that hole in the ground, and it enfolds her and she ignores everything except her ghost.  
Watching her now, you'll see her tidy up, you'll see her spend a long moment staring at the picture, until you think she has to blink- but she doesn't. And you get a strange sense, as she does, but its normal, that the expression on the face changes. In fact, if this wasn't a scientific day and age, you'd swear she was conversing with it. The staring becomes so intense, you think she's going to disintegrate, disappear into the picture. But then she sighs, and gets up and goes to bed.  
Its strange you could have thought she had that power to talk to pictures, this girl. She's quite commonplace, her hair's always messy, her clothes are just what she has, she's not even particularly clever. Just a tired lost girl, but not inciting pity- she's too ordinary for that.  
You'd see, the invisible observer, that the last thing she does before turning out the light is look up at the pictures of him above the headboard, and say-"'night, Draco. Love you. See you in the morning. Although, of course, you're there all night, aren't you, watching over me." And you could almost swear the pictures were.  
You'd see her go to sleep with a black and a green stone clutched in each hand because, don't you know, those stones conduct his energy flows to her, and hers to him. They conect the girl and her ghost, and allow them to draw on each others energy when they're weak.  
You'd see her get up next morning, and you'd see that all day she carries those stones, one in each hand. And that she's willing him to take her energy, and to give her all his pain. "Take my energy, take all of it. All of it, after all, you need it more than I do."  
And you'd see her draw on those stones for mental strength, for that cynical detachment her ghost has with everyone else. That she lacks without him.  
Just before she left, you'd have seen her take a third stone off the bed, seethrough white quartz with a dark blue heart. This one, you'd realise, she thinks is his frozen tears. The reason he can't cry anymore, her ghost. The key to his tears. You'd see her slip it next to her heart.  
Then that evening you'd see her send herself to sleep with pictures of him in her head, buried in her hole. Then, as you watch, it all grows a little hazy. Just a little. The covers stir, and the haze solidifies into a boy there behind the girl. He's moonlight and magic, lying curled up against her back with his arm draped over her belly and his cheek on her hair. His pale cheek and silver hair, and his grey eyes hidden by the sweep of leaden lashes as he sleeps. And suddenly she looks less normal and you, the watcher, are struck by the resemblance- surely a family resemblance? As you look it seems to grow more marked, until you see these are twins, surely.  
As you watch, the leaden lashes lift, revealing bright grey eyes. They glare at you warily, possesivley, angry that you dare watch his sister. He really is watching over her. All that night you'd watch them, the milky skin and identical twisted smiles. And then she stirs, and rolls over as he turns hazy and is gone. The alarm clock goes, but she can still feel her brother holding her- is reluctant to get up.  
So there really is a ghost, you think, as the ritual of the day begins again. They do say that there really is a psychic connection between twins. The girls name doesn't matter. 


End file.
